And What Will They Say About You Behind Closed Doors

When I was in middle school, everyone considered me to be an amiable and understanding person. That equated to being stepped on and not having a voice. So as I got older, not only did I grow into my maturing body, I grew into my thoughts. My words. My ideas. My opinion. My demeanor changed and no longer do I take the warm cozy seat on the sidelines like the vast majority of people, let alone women, do.

I yell if I’m angry and cry if distraught.

I smile if I’m happy and don’t when I’m not.

Don’t confuse strength with aggression. Don’t confuse my willingness to tell you about your flaws with me being a bitch. I’d rather you hate me and respect me than lie and act sweet in my face and stab me in the back. Where’s the friendship in that?

FriendSHIT.

And yes I mentioned women. As a growing Black woman, I’m learning the mechanics of truth. Honesty is a virtue that not everyone is blessed with. I’m also learning I can’t win it all.